


A Helping Hand

by Angylsmuse, Orithain



Series: Fourth Pass [30]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9380384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angylsmuse/pseuds/Angylsmuse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orithain/pseuds/Orithain
Summary: A young lord who’s trained as a steward allows his mother to convince him to go help out the son of one of her oldest friends, who became a very unprepared lord holder after the Plague.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted June 2002.

Darven dismounted his runner and looked around in dismay. What had he been thinking of to agree to come here and ‘help out’? Clearly the young lord holder of Wychwood had no clue how to run a hold, which was not his fault since he hadn’t been raised to it, but whoever was supposed to be the steward here should be whipped.

His mother, hearing of the problems facing the son of her dearest childhood friend, had begged Dark to go visit and offer some advice to help young Thatcher out of his difficulties. When his stepmother Jessamy had joined in, Dark had known that attempting to refuse was a wasted effort and simply begun making plans for the trip.

Looking around now, however, he wondered if maybe he should have brought everything he owned. This was not going to be a quick visit, and this hold needed more than a few words of advice. He turned to the sloppy looking holdworker and asked where he might find the lord holder.

When the holder only eyed him suspiciously, Dark drew himself up to his full height, which was nearly a foot taller than the worker, and looked down his nose. “Inform your lord holder that Lord Darven of Camyrden, son of his own lady mother’s foster sister, is here to see him. Now!”

The final bark sent the worker scurrying off in search of Lord Tad.

Thatcher was in his office, pouring over hidework and trying to figure out just what went where and how he’d done it wrong. Shards, why had he let his mother talk him into this? She’d grown up at Wychwood. _She’d_ been a lady. All his life he’d just been a leathercrafter at Camyrden Tannerhall, and now here he was _Lord Holder_ Thatcher.

The door to his office burst open, and the uppity steward squawked in rage behind the holdworker, who was flapping and panicking and squeaking about huge men with scars and threats and calling out the armscrafters and... “ENOUGH!!!” Tad roared, using his very rarely seen temper.

“You, tunnelsnake, get out!” he snapped at the steward, vowing on the spot to replace him the next day. “You, sit down, take a deep breath and _then_ talk!”

Having watched the holdworker flutter away, Dark had not had great confidence in his ability to _find_ Lord Thatcher, never mind bring him back. He strode after the wispy man, arriving time to witness Thatcher’s explosion and eviction of the steward.

Dark smiled at the pathetic excuse for a steward, or more accurately bared his teeth at him, then stepped inside the office and shut the door in the squawking man’s face.

“Lord Holder Thatcher? I am Lord Darven of Camyrden. _Both_ of our mothers prevailed upon me to offer you my services to return Wychwood to its normal state. I’ve assisted my stepmother as steward for many Turns now,” he added, thinking some explanation was called for.

Thatcher stared up at the tall, swarthy man with not a little awe and a smidgen of fright. Shells and little shards, the man was _huge_! Oh, not in a bodily way, although he was tall, he just exuded such presence that Thatcher felt dwarfed by him.

“I... unh... I take it this is who you wanted to call the armscrafters out on?” he said to the holdworker, who merely squeaked and tried to burrow into the chair. “There, there, Rund, no need to panic. I won’t let him hurt you. Now be a good lad and go find Joff and Wort. I’m sure they’ll take care of you.” Thatcher watched the rather dim-witted drudge who’d attached himself to his friends scuttle away.

“That was really very unkind of you, you know,” Thatcher told the larger man once the door closed behind Rundal. “Rund can’t help it if he’s a bit flighty. His parents were drudges, their parents were drudges, and he suffered from a wasting sickness as a child. It’s luck that he survived at all.”

Ceasing his chastisement of the guest, Thatcher suddenly turned and flung open the door. “Armscrafter, fetch me Joffry, and when you return, supervise this man’s removal from this office. He is no longer my hold steward, Joffry is. Odds are that with no experience and a big mouth he can _still_ do a better job than you, Emar!”

Slamming the door shut once more, he turned back to Lord Darven. “Where were we, oh yes, you were about to tell me everything I’ve done wrong because you’re older, bigger, stronger and much more in charge than I could ever hope to be, correct?”

One eyebrow rising almost to his hairline, Dark just looked at the audacious puppy. “I was offering my assistance since your steward is clearly incompetent and I’ve been Mama Jessamy’s assistant for Turns. But clearly you have everything in hand and don’t need _my_ help. I wouldn’t dream of interfering in how you run your hold, Lord Holder Thatcher. I’ll just be on my way... and tell Mama and Aunt Thalia to ask you how you’re doing.” His smile was absolutely evil as he turned to leave.

Thatcher gulped audibly, but sharditall, this man just burst in here and practically... “Offer your help? You terrified my drudge and practically ordered me to take it. And to think I used to think you were handsome when I saw...” Thatcher’s jaw snapped shut with a loud snap, and his face turned crimson. Oh fuck, he’d said it out loud!

Dark turned back, and the second eyebrow rose to join the first. “Your drudge is terrified of his own shadow,” he pointed out dryly. “And I didn’t order you to take anything. Shards, I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for a conspiracy of mothers. If you can say no to them when they’re determined on something, you’re a better man than I am!” He pointedly didn’t mention Thatcher’s slip of the tongue, thinking it was kind of cute that the boy had a crush on him.

Thatcher snorted. “If I could stand up to my mother, you think I’d be here, playing at being lord holder? Shells almighty, the guilt trip that woman can wage!”

Staring up at the taller man, his face both belligerent and resigned to his ‘fate’, Tad sighed heartily and flung himself back into a chair. “Oh all right, _teach_ me, _mold_ me, make me into the perfect little lord holder. If you can, that is.”

“’Perfect lord holder’,” Dark snickered. “Ain’t no such animal! Trust me, I’ve watched my dad and several of the others, and none of them are perfect. But what the good ones all have in common is understanding their own strengths and weaknesses and hiring good people to supply what they can’t. My father, for instance, couldn’t run the day-to-day business of the hold if his life depended on it. But Mama Jess and I can.”

He shrugged. “Put together a team of people you can trust and who are good at what they do. I’ll stick around for a while to get you started.”

“And do what, exactly?” Tad asked with a lifting of his chin.

“What I’m best at, of course. I’ll act as your steward till you find one who can do the job _well_.” Glaring at Tad and waiting for him to mention his friend.

Tad smiled sunnily. “Fine, then _you_ can teach _Joff_ how to do it well, can’t you?” Feeling rather fine at the coup de grace he just delivered, Thatcher decided now would be a good time to inspect the new sword his lady blacksmith was making for him. Standing, he breezed towards the door.

Dark folded his arms across his chest and didn’t move away from the door. “_You_ need to learn as well. At worst, that way you can run your own hold if you ever need to, and at best, you’ll actually be good at it. You’ll find that caring for your people yourself is a very pleasant feeling.”

“Ummm - translation you’re gonna teach me too, hunh?” Tad’s shoulders slumped. “I thought it was too easy, but do we have to start right now? I’ve been staring at figures all day, and my head hurts, and my ass is numb from sitting, and, well, I’m bored senseless, okay? That tunnelsnake out there would just look at me like I was dragon - well, you know - if I tried to step out of this office before the seventh candlemark after nooning.”

The older man had to smile. “Your fortitude fills me with awe,” he grinned. “I’d have stabbed him within a sevenday!” He clapped Tad on a shoulder, still smiling. “Go, relax, we don’t need to start till morning. But if someone could find me a room...” he trailed off almost plaintively.

“Oh, right, I forgot. Terribly rude of me, hunh? Well, since you’re practically family - almost a brother no less,” Tad opened the door and bellowed for an armscrafter. “This is Lord Darven, my brother, so to speak, so take him to the family suites. He can have ... umm, the room next to mine, I guess.”

“Yes, sir!” The young woman saluted. “If you’ll follow me, Lord Darven?”

“Right behind you, corporal,” Dark replied with an appreciative smile. This hold was just full of attractive possibilities. “If I don’t see you tonight, Lord Thatcher, I’ll meet you back here a candlemark after breakfast tomorrow.”

“If you don’t see me ... Oh great! Mama sent me a playboy who doesn’t even want to play with me,” the young man pouted as the door shut behind the departing Lord Darven. “Well shells. Guess I’ll just go play with my own armscrafter - or armscrafters!”

~*~*~

The pretty armscrafter had been as friendly as Dark could have hoped, but even two incredibly healthy people had to take a break eventually. After bathing, they went down to the dining hall, discovering they were in time for supper, and Dark waved at Tad as he sank into a vacant seat.

Thatcher pouted and said nothing, just looked anywhere but at the older man and sipped his wine until dinner came, which he just toyed with. It was only when Joff and Wort came in that he seemed to liven, and when they began talking about the ‘fine catch’ they’d found for him, well, he practically vibrated on the spot.

“Is it...?”

“Yup,” Wort replied smugly.

“Both?”

“But of course, Tad, would we ever deliver half a present to you?”

“If you’ll excuse me, brother dear,” Thatcher said nonchalantly as he got up then practically bolted out the room to go and meet the deliciously dommy armscrafter twins he’d been ogling the day before. Darven wasn’t the _only_ one who could have some fun, sharditall!

Dark saw the lord holder’s precipitous exit, and he smiled faintly. It looked like he wasn’t the only one having a good night. Tad was a cute kid, and he deserved to have some fun after having to put up with that obnoxious steward for so long. He looked forward to helping the young man to improve things here at Wychwood.

~*~*~

For two whole sevendays an unofficial war as to who could bed the most seemed to rage between Thatcher and Darven until, at last, Thatcher barricaded himself in his bedroom, all the lights off and the doors shuttered and refused to come out. He was tired, he was sore from being flown every night, sometimes half a dozen or so times, by all these big butch types.

Last night had been Telmar, and he’d been more than a little rough. So rough in fact that he’d left some very visible marks and had tried to take Thatcher almost dry, unsuccessful though he had been to perform, thank the Star! Tad was miserable and hurting, and he didn’t to see anyone, least of all Lord Perfect who never seemed to do any wrong, have any problems with bedmates or even acknowledge Tad was alive beyond being a puppy to pat on the head.

Though Tad didn’t realize it, Dark _had_ noticed his activities, and he’d been furious when he’d seen the bruises and signs of pain that morning. Thatcher clearly needed to be more discriminating in his choice of partners, and if no one else would talk to the lord holder, Dark would!

He pounded on the door, knowing that Tad was inside and determined to see him. “Thatcher, open this door and let me in, or by Faranth I’ll break it in!”

“Go sit in a patch of numbweed and soak!” Tad yelled back, burrowing further under the covers and whimpering softly as the soft fabric abraded the rope burns around his wrists that he’d managed to cover up with too long sleeves today. Shells, no more, he was done playing. He was gonna be a born again virgin - no more sex ever! A small sob escaped his throat, and a single tear slid down his cheek, unheeded.

“I warned him,” Dark observed to no one in particular. Before he started trying to kick the door in, a tug at his sleeve made him look down, and he found Rund holding out a key. Darven smiled and thanked the drudge, then opened the door and slipped inside, locking it behind him.

He turned toward the bed, saying, “Now look, Thatcher...” He stopped abruptly when he saw one of Tad’s wrists, and he suddenly was sitting on the side of the bed, grasping an uninjured part of Tad’s arm so he could inspect the damage. “Jays!” he gasped, feeling sick.

“Did I say you could come in here? NO! I told you to go sit in numbweed. This is my...” he hiccupped, “my Hold, and you have to obey m-me!” Another hiccup. “So get the fuck out!!!”

Wrenching his injured wrist away from the bigger man, Tad wrapped the blankets cocoon-like around him and curled into a tight little ball, desperately trying to block out everything but his own self-castigation.

“Thatcher...” Unable to bear the sight of the young man’s misery, Dark drew his resisting form into his arms, settling the lord holder on his lap and stroking his back soothingly. “Oh sweetheart, why did you think you had to let someone do this to you? You’re worth so much more than this.” He murmured soothing words for what seemed candlemarks, holding the stiff form in his embrace, trying to comfort him.

“Y-you didn’t want me, not when I was at the tannerhall, not now. Just a little puppy to pat on the head and swat with a hide if he does something bad. Besides. I like people stronger than me. I like not being in charge, and by the time I realized... it was too late.

“Not gonna happen again though, gonna marry a woman, have a couple heirs and never ever have sex again unless I _have_ to to make a baby. End of story!”

“_I_ didn’t...” Dark closed his eyes in dismay. By dismissing Tad’s feelings as a juvenile crush, he’d inadvertently caused this. “Oh, Thatcher, you should never let anyone matter that much to you. And you can’t let what that animal did to you ruin your life. Don’t let him win, Tad. You have so much love to give, so much pleasure to experience... Being with someone stronger doesn’t mean letting them hurt you.” He held Tad closer still, petting him.

Tad snorted. “And yet you just said not to let anyone mean that much to you. Talk about contradictions. And how do you know what I have to offer, and why are you here, and will you let me go?!” Tad replied, struggling and panicking and trying to get away.

Dark held him, easily subduing his struggles, knowing that if he left Tad now, the young man might never get over this. “I meant that you should never allow one person’s opinion - or perceived opinion - dictate your actions. And you certainly shouldn’t let that bastard ruin your life. You’re sweet and sexy and loving, and I won’t let him destroy you.”

“Too late, he already did last night.”

“No,” Dark breathed, slowly lowering his head to kiss Thatcher, holding him still, ignoring his resistance as he simply pressed his lips softly to the other man’s mouth.

Tad tried to hold still, lie passively in the older man’s arms and not respond. He wasn’t going to do this again, open himself up for a whole lot of hurt that he didn’t want or need. However, when he opened up his mouth to protest, Darven’s tongue slipped inside and began to explore, and it felt so sharding good that it was hard to say no.

Moaning quietly, Tad was barely aware that his body began to soften and melt, molding itself against the older, stronger man, pressing and yearning desperately for comfort.

Not speaking, not wanting to break the moment or allow Tad to think, Dark stretched out on the bed, drawing Tad down beside him, half over him. He continued to kiss the young lord holder, petting him lightly, and rubbed a thigh against the younger man’s groin. After seeing Tad’s wrists, he didn’t even want to think about what his ass must be like. If he did, he’d have to go kill the bastard responsible. Instead, he concentrated on comforting and pleasuring Thatcher, reminding him that not all men were like that.

Drifting in a cloud of pleasure, Tad was barely aware when the sheet was slipped from his body, revealing his naked form, complete with marks and abrasions from the wherhide lash that had been used on him last night. All he was aware of was the feelings rushing over him, how much he’d wanted this, how long he’d ached for Dark, Turns of worshipping from afar but being afraid and feeling unworthy of a lord holder’s son. But now...

“Dark, ple-ease!” he groaned needfully. “Don’t tease like this, either do something or leave, because I can’t handle this anymore. I’m about ready to explode!”

“Can’t have that, sweetheart,” Dark murmured. He slid down Tad’s body to take his cock into his mouth, taking him deep into his throat right away. This time was to pleasure Tad, to remind him that this was supposed to be fun, not painful. And if he were being honest with himself, he’d noticed the cute but _young_ Thatcher Turns before.

His tongue rubbed against the shaft filling his mouth while one hand rolled Thatcher’s balls, the other just barely touching the young man’s entrance.

Tad mewled happily and tried to ease back, to fill that emptiness behind him as well as wallow in the pleasure of Darven’s mouth. It was better than anything he’d ever expected; it was the most amazing feeling, such a connection as if this was who he was always meant for.

The pain of the previous night had already been forgotten, as had his rash vow to never give in to need again. All Thatcher knew was that this was the best, the most exciting, the most desperately thrilling act he’d ever felt, and it was by far one of the tamer things he’d done in his sexual life. It was that it was _Dark_ doing it to him that made it perfect. The one man he’d worshipped for Turns was loving him, and he was already nearly ready to explode. “Please, need _you_ , Darven, please?”

Dark slowly pulled off of Tad’s cock, licking and pressing sucking kisses as he went. Once he’d licked his lips and lapped the shiny head a final time, he stared at the young lord holder frowningly, though his hands never ceased to toy with the other man. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tad,” he admitted. “I want you desperately, but not if it’s going to cause you pain. We can wait for that.”

Tad blushed bright red. “He never... I mean he couldn’t... get it up in the end, you know? Was one of the reasons why he played so hard - he was hoping it would get a reaction,” the younger man confessed. “Said I obviously wasn’t doing it right if I couldn’t arouse him.”

“Sounds more like he’s one of those who can only be aroused by pain,” Dark replied with distaste. “And you’re well rid of him. But that’s definitely to my advantage.” He pressed a little harder, allowing his fingertip to push inside Tad while he looked around for the oil he knew had to be nearby.

Spotting the container, he removed his finger to reach for it, heavily coating several digits in the slick liquid before rolling Thatcher onto his belly. Confronted with that gorgeous ass, he couldn’t resist, and he bit gently on one cheek, careful not to touch any of the welts. Then, before Tad could really react, he carefully parted the lush cheeks and flicked his tongue over the tight ring of muscle, tasting his lover for the first time.

“Oh sweet sharding night!” The lord holder cried out, his hands fisting in the bedsheets as he bit down on the pillow and thrust his ass higher up in the air. The first touch of his lover was electric, the feel of Dark’s tongue moving across him, that soft sandpaper rasp sent him into paroxysms of need. Nothing had ever felt that good! Mewling and bucking, the young man wordlessly begged for more.

Although he’d planned to stretch Tad thoroughly, using three fingers and taking his time, the young man’s reactions were too much for him. Once two fingers moved easily in and out of him, Dark positioned himself, swiped his oily hand over his cock and pushed inside, groaning his pleasure.

Thatcher wailed quietly into the pillows, the sharp burn of entry fading after a moment to become an insidiously sweet pleasure that had him thrusting back harder for more. The young man didn’t stop until he felt the wiry brush of Darven’s curls caressing his ass, and even then it wasn’t enough.

Calling upon Turns of sexual experiences and tricks, Thatcher began to fuck himself on his lover’s erection, moving forward and backwards as he used his inner muscles to clamp down hard on Dark so that he was virgin tight and rippled around the shaft within him.

Dark threw his head back, panting as he fought for control. Clearly, although he might have considered Thatcher too young for him before now, others most certainly had not. This was no timid virgin. Fine then. He smiled ferally.

Dark suddenly began to move harder, pounding into the mewling man beneath him, claiming that hot, tight ass as his. His hips drove forward while his hand clamped around Tad’s rigid cock, pumping him while he took him.

“Yes, shells, yes. Give it to me, fuck, oh ride me, please, harder, yes, fuck me, FUCK ME!” Tad begged as he lunged back and forth between fist and cock, clamping down hard on the erection buried deep within him even as he fought not to come. One hand slithered from beneath the pillow he’d buried it under and down his chest to pinch and twist at his nipples, adding a spicy tease to their sex games.

The older man gave him everything he asked for and more, pounding into him fiercely, pushing his legs further apart to try to go deeper still. One hand continued to pump Tad’s cock, milking the pleasure out of him, while his other hand held the blond’s hip tightly enough to bruise. Trying to ensure that Tad came first, Dark whispered hot words of passion in his ear, then bit down on his shoulder blade, hoping the sensual pain would tip him over the edge.

“Ooooooooooooh shellls!!!,” Thatcher screamed into the pillow as his whole body convulsed and shook with the strength of his orgasm. Never before had it been this hot, this wild. Never before had a partner pleasured him so well or so completely that it left him a shivering, sobbing mass of spent flesh, and yet that was precisely what Darven had done. Tad felt wrecked, totally and completely spent.

The rippling convulsions of his lover drove Dark into his own climax, and he thrust as deep inside the young lord as he could, groaning Tad’s name as he came. As the final paroxysm died away, he slumped over the other man, knowing that now that he’d had him, he’d never be able to give him up.

He lay quietly, blanketing Tad, nuzzling whatever parts of him he could reach without moving.

After long moments of panting for breath and trying to calm his racing heart, Tad managed to turn his head to the side and grin wearily up at the older man. “Mmmm, that was fun. Too bad you didn’t want me Turns ago. We could have had this back then, instead of tonight.”

Dark carefully separated them and settled himself comfortably amidst the pillows, drawing Tad into his arms before he replied. “I had to wait for you to grow up, Tad. I think I knew even then that once I had you, I’d never let you go.” He met the other man’s eyes forthrightly.

“N-never let me go?” the younger man replied, stuttering, his eyes huge and disbelieving. “You mean you’re not gonna... this isn’t... you’re keeping me?”

A wry smile twisted Dark’s lips. “Since I can’t imagine wanting anyone else after that, and I would kill anyone who touched you, I think it’s best, don’t you?”

“You would? You can’t? I... you’re really going to stay here, with me?” the younger man replied, wonderingly. He couldn’t believe it; in fact he was almost ready to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, and if it weren’t for the slight soreness in his ass and the sensation of his lover’s fluid slowly seeping out of him, he would have sworn it was a wet dream. But it wasn’t. Darven was really here.

“You’re really going to keep me,” he repeated, a beatific smile breaking out on his face. “I think I could live with that.”

Starting to laugh, Dark pressed a kiss to the top of the tousled blond head, still holding him close. “Why do I suddenly wonder who caught who?”

“Gee, I wonder?” Tad sassed back, wrapping his arms around Dark’s waist. “Just because I’ve been lusting after you for Turns, I wouldn’t have the foggiest why you’d think that!”

Still chuckling, Dark tilted Tad’s head up, then kissed him tenderly. “You realize I’m talking about marriage here, don’t you?”

“M-marriage?” Thatcher was speechless, well and truly speechless.

Dark nodded emphatically. “That’s what permanent means, Tad.” He smiled crookedly. “I think I knew the moment I saw you that someday it would come to this. That’s why I tried so hard to stay away from you until you had a chance to grow up and find out what you wanted.”

Tad snickered softly. “Does that include sexual preferences?” he asked with a wicked glint in his eyes. “’Cause if it does, I’m not sure I’ve finished growing.”

“You can do any future growing with me!” Dark growled possessively.

Tad purred and snuggled deeper into the older man’s embrace, adoring the possessiveness he heard in Dark’s voice. “And just how are you gonna keep me in line?” he continued to tease. “After all, I _am_ the lord holder.”

“And I’m bigger and stronger... and if I ever find you with anyone else, I’ll walk.” Dark was suddenly serious. “You’re mine now, Tad, and I. Don’t. Share. Not ever.”

Thatcher sobered immediately. “I wouldn’t, you know. I’d never be unfaithful to someone I loved. I think I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you,” the lord holder admitted quietly.

Dark’s smile returned, along with another kiss. “I love you too. But I’m still waiting for an answer, you know. You’re supposed to reply to marriage proposals,” he teased.

Tad grinned. “Well, I haven’t had a proper proposal, now have I?”

Dark snorted. Then he kissed Tad hard, rolled out of bed, and sank down to one knee, indifferent to his nudity. He caught one of the young man’s hands in his own and stared soulfully into his eyes. “Lord Holder Thatcher, would you do me the inestimable honor of consenting to marry me?” Despite his overblown manner and actions, his eyes were serious now as he waited for Tad’s reply.

Tad couldn’t prevent the giggle that escaped as he tugged on the older man’s hands. “Get back into bed, you moron; it’s _cold_ out there!” he laughed. When at last the older man complied and crawled under the covers, Thatcher plastered himself against the bigger man. “Of course I’ll marry you. After all, I’ve wanted you forever, and I’ve... loved you for almost as long,” he admitted quietly, blushing a becoming shade of red.

“Then it’s a good thing I never let myself notice you before, or we’d have scandalized all of Pern,” Dark laughed. “I don’t think I’d have had much luck keeping my hands off you, Tad. And now I won’t have to; you’re all mine,” he said in tones redolent with satisfaction.

“And this, by the way, is another way to get yourself a good steward: marry him!” he laughed.


End file.
